Woorden: Andrew Bird. Armchair Apocrypha. Fiery Crash.

Two stars are missing me
Jet waves are driving me
Things in nicer motions
We are hauling to space

G force is twisting the faith with superstition
A fatal premonition
You know you've got to envision
The fiery crash

Oh, close your eyes and you wake up
Face stuck to a vinyl settee
Oh, a lot is starting to break off
Just as you were starting to say
Someday I'll propose I don't know

These childs in magazines
Blue doves in the sea on and devote every monitor screen
You were caught in the cross fire
Where every human face is reaching for your knees or ears
Delivering position, a fatal premonition

Save our lives, you've got to envision
To save all our lives, you've got to envision
And to save all our lives, you've got to envision
The fiery crash, it's just a formality
Or must I explain, just a nod to mortality
Before you get on and before you get on a plane

Oh, close your eyes and you wake up
Face stuck to a vinyl settee
Oh, a lot is starting to break off
What was that you were going to say?